


Chapter 1

by LurdoEwok



Series: Falling on Endor [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Ewoks (Cartoon)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Anal Sex, Caretaking, Dark Magic, Ewoks (Star Wars), Gay, Human, Interspecies Romance, Lightsabers, M/M, Magic, Mpreg, Oral Sex, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, The Force, Transformation, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27335314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LurdoEwok/pseuds/LurdoEwok
Summary: Kash Reed is struggling to stay awake long enough to get help when Wydet manages to drag his friends Edan and Cheedak out to the crashed ship to check it out.
Series: Falling on Endor [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995907
Kudos: 1





	Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The tags in the heading of this chapter are for future chapters as well as this one so you know what to expect in this story. There is no sex or kinks in this chapter and the tags will be updated to reflect this later.

(This is Scene 1 of Chapter 1. This will be updated with the full text later.)

About 43,000 light years from the Galactic Core lies the binary star system containing the lifeless gas giant known as Endor. That planet is orbited by nine moons, the largest of which is slightly less than 5,000 kilometers in diameter. In contrast to its jovian—called Tana by the natives—this moon is covered in lush vegetation and is home to many strange forms of wild and intelligent life.

Here, the Rebellion made its last stand against the Galactic Empire and its terrible death star. Aided by the inhabitants of the moon, they drove back the Imperial forces on the surface and destroyed the shield generator protecting the mighty space station. Afterward, there was great rejoicing in the forces of the rebellion and the natives of the forest moon.

Afterward, the rebels spent only a week recovering ships, materials and rescuing soldiers from both sides. Their resources needed to be turned to the more important business of rebuilding the galactic federation. As such, their rescue teams and ships left the moon behind them in rather a hurry.

Despite this haste, they would not forget the aid they received. The Rebellion is practical, but with a streak of sentimentality. One day they would return to erect monuments and provide protections to the native people on the moon, giving them a chance to join and spread to the new galactic community they were building. The names of the soldiers who had fallen in defense of the rebellion would be remembered forever throughout the galaxy.

Still, they had been sloppy when leaving Endor behind. If they had waited just two days more they would have picked up the one, weak radio signal now coming from the planet.

"This is K-22-D-5-624, Pilot Kash Reed of Lambda T-4 shuttle K-22." A shaky voice intoned in a voice trained in the dull, official tone of imperial communication, "In need of assistance. Ship is marginally functional. Hull is breached. Ship is not space-worthy. In need of immediate retrieval. Code 50b. Repeat--"

Down on the moon of Endor, the tip of a pale, almost white blade-wing of the imperial ship peeks through the trees. It was one of three, though the other two were canted at odd angles. The long, ragged gashes along the side of the ship were hidden in the brush. So any brief visual scan would designate it as low probability for retrieval or survivors. With no radio or power signals, it was easy to overlook.

Though perhaps if they’d been able to identify the shuttle, they would have taken the time to investigate more thoroughly. It was, after all, the same shuttle used by that now-ex sinister leader of the Empire’s forces, Darth Vader.

Kash had commandeered the shuttle, though he barely knew how to fly it. Few would have been so daring. He’d heard that its owner had fallen. Betrayed the Emperor and paid the price for his treachery. The thought actually warmed Kash, just a bit. Vader had been a terrible tyrant, but somehow Skywalker had made him see the light.

He was not the only one who’d taken to the idea of using their glorious leader’s transportation, however. Kash had found himself face to face with a Captain, and glad of the discarded pistol he’d found in the corridor. It had secured his life, though at a cost he’d rather not have paid.

The pilot of shuttle K-22 leaned on the control console held his thumb down on the button for the radio, repeating his message. It had taken him a day and a half to recover from his injuries in the crash… well, enough to drag himself to this side of the cabin and start ripping up the console to diagnose the issue—but he was not fully recovered, in any sense.

His leg was still immobile and immersed in the bacta-cast, which was helping the flesh and bone knit together—but not well. He was no medic, and only knew enough that he hadn’t been able to set the bone. Bruises and scratches covered his body, and he wasn't sure, but he may have cracked a rib. It was mere luck that he found the emergency medical supplies intact. Most of the food rations had been in the portion of the ship that had been gouged open, and what he'd found was something he'd only eat out of desperation.

Ewok jerky. Absolutely disgusting. When he'd first heard of the so-called "ration delicacy," he'd been put off the food in the Death Star mess hall for a week. Kash wasn't alone in his reservations, but the majority of the troops seemed to regard Ewoks as an inferior race, hardly sentient.

Kash knew differently. He was no xeno-biologist, but he'd long harbored a love of non-human intelligent species. The varied and detailed scans of the forest moon had shown that the Ewoks had a thriving tribal society.

Watching the holo-recordings had filled him with a longing that surprised him. More than the usual aesthetic appreciation he felt for the varied designs life had to offer in the species all over the galaxy, he found them a handsome race. Small, round and furry, with cookie-shaped ears and fierce, piercing eyes. Gentle and ferocious. Courageous and kind. Diminutive but strong.

He had begun to look at them with a fond envy, and imagined what it would be like if his somewhat gangly form could be cast off and replaced with that of an Ewok. The fantasy had even edged its way into something sexual, as he imagined being in a press of soft furry bodies. The ecstasy of mating with strange and new biology where his human anatomy had once been. He'd been thankful for his private barracks.

So no, Kash didn't eat Ewok jerky.

He’d sooner have dined on the flesh of his fellow human, the captain he’d had to shoot in self-defense to escape the doomed space station. The surprised look on the face of the other man still haunted him, but he felt far less guilty about it than what had been done to the natives of the forest moon.

Still, the decision hadn’t come to him soon enough and the captain’s body had begun to decay. He’d stuffed it into an airtight storage locker and sealed it. No doubt it was in a horrid state by now. Still, let someone else bury the bastard.

But neither had he thrown the jerky out of the hole in the ship. He told himself it was just to avoid attracting wild animals, but deeper down he knew it was the fear of starvation. He was still an engineer, and a pragmatist. He knew that in the end, calories were calories, despite how horrific the source.

Thankfully, he'd found an intact emergency medical kit, and there’d been a lone expired ration bar in it. It had been enough to last him a few days and kick his metabolism into burning off what little fat was on his frame to help sustain him. Still, after a week his head swam from the combination of stimulants and painkillers he'd taken to keep himself awake and working until the radio was functional. It was hard to know how much time passed while he was working, or how many times he drifted off in a pain haze.

Cobbling something together hadn't been easy. He'd managed it, but there was no automation. Only his voice, sending the signal out, and no way to receive a return signal.

Now his head lowered to the console as he repeated his message. The cool metal soothed his hot brow. The rush of excitement he'd gotten at getting the damn thing to work was wearing off and now he was feeling the lack of real, restful sleep. He closed his eyes, holding the button down as long as he could and muttering his plea for help before slipping into unconsciousness. The last scrap of his rational mind argued that now he could take his time. If nothing else they’d hear his breathing. Someone would come.

He didn’t notice the lamp on the console going out as the last of the damaged emergency battery power died away.


End file.
